


In the Business of Misery

by bottomboybye



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Gabriel is an unreliable narrator, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Self Care, commissioned piece, gabriel thinks, jack is a literal day of sunshine, jesse got a booboo and Gabe blames himself, or rather partner care, post mission decompression, this is a very 3rd person Gabe pov, this isn’t mature in any real way beyond some stuff, who else is not shocked
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-31
Updated: 2020-07-31
Packaged: 2021-03-05 18:53:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,297
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25620133
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bottomboybye/pseuds/bottomboybye
Summary: At least McCree isn’t going home in a body bag, he gets to go home to whatever it is waiting for him.What does Gabe have waiting for him?
Relationships: Reaper | Gabriel Reyes/Soldier: 76 | Jack Morrison
Comments: 3
Kudos: 58





	In the Business of Misery

**Author's Note:**

> This was a commissioned piece when I opened them back in early 2019 I’m forever thankful Lobo was patient enough after my life blew up for me to finally finish this.
> 
> I’m really proud of this, I hope you like it.

Misery loves company. 

Gabriel festers in his, silent as piercing eyes roll over McCree’s battered body. He grins, a tooth loose and blood leaking between the seam of his lips. He wants to punch the damn vaquero but he can’t, he’s won the hearts of too many main squad members’ approval. 

A sneer and harsh a beration will do in the absence of his blood lust. 

What Gabriel refuses to admit to himself is that he is shaken. He has been a commander for so long, he has forgotten that people die on the front lines, the crisis had been a fluke when they all made it out alive. Barely, in some cases but mostly intact. 

Jesse deserves better than being left to rot in a sewer in France; the thought makes his blood boil. How dare their mark try to take out Jesse in a fit of self defense? Abhorrent. Gabe has to flex his fingers to stop himself from slamming his fist into a wall. 

McCree gives him a salute with a broken hand while being carefully tended to by Moira, quiet and refusing to quip whenever Jesse tries to goad her. She snaps at him once and he quiets, realizing the gravity of the situation. For all their hostility, she seems almost shaken by Jesse’s near demise. It seems she is not as frigid as once thought to their dearest coyote boy. 

Going home feels like a trek; with each mile the weight of the world pushes against the line of his shoulders: he is not Atlas, he cannot hold the weight he so desperately tries to. 

The terrain is well traveled, lightly snowed but the streets are hastily maintained. He hears Jack swooning over the snow response around this base, how Indiana struggled to keep up with its infrastructure while Switzerland flourished. The difference between capitalism and socialism,how any of them want to go home is beyond him— beyond Jack. Gabe has a family back in the hellish social wasteland of America that is barely united under a common cause which makes him a little less hasty to never go back. 

He wishes his family would come here but he knows they never would. Jack picks up the slack of a noisy household though. He’s loud when he’s excited and always ready to talk whenever the mood strikes him. Jack is refreshing in the cutthroat system of their never ending espionage. Jack is easy to read, easy to relax around. 

The idea of Jack soothes him in a way Gabriel knows he shouldn’t let it. His fingers grip the steering wheel a little tighter, the premade divots deepen under his grasp. A groan from the plastic pulls him from inside his head, reminding him that he is an unstoppable force of scientific creation that cannot die while all those around him suffer. 

Gabriel is not proud of the way he smacks the wheel and has to pull over to the side of the road. Hands rubs against his face, the roughened fingers of his hands add a level of tactile pleasure that reminds him though he is a weapon of war, he is still a man. 

His hands are dirty, nails have a layer of grime under them. His hands are ashy, cracking where the cold has started to dig deep into his skin. He needs lotion, preferably the one Jack uses. He wants to push his hands in his face and smell the one creature on Earth he might let see him crumble— who has seen him crumble under the weight of command with too much blood dyeing his hands that were already smeared with gunpowder. 

Jack is sunshine in the darkness, the way day breaks the cold shadows of night. He hated it, Jack. He hated being called sunshine with a passion. He hated so many things half heartedly and never corrected a thing that Gabriel said to him in the way of pet names beyond vague grumbling. He can remember the reactions to sweetheart, pumpkin, cherry pie— Jack has reddened faster than a rising sun during the dawn. Golden hair with slight silvering at the temples and worry lines deepening with a ruddy hue. His optimistic to the point of fault man. Jack was his to, begrudgingly, share with the world. 

Gabriel hated sharing. 

He starts the car back up without much fanfare. He wants to go home and fall into bed. He wants to wrap himself in scents, cologne, and laundry detergent until he becomes one with the smell. He wants his entire being encrusted with eud du Jack. 

Gabriel has to laugh at himself, shoulders feeling a little less heavy. 

He wonders who the squad all go back home to after a mission. Jesse will stay in medical until someone decides to check him out and send him to his flat, Genji will go to Angela for charging in the main Overwatch base, Moira will go back to her Dobermans, and he’ll go back to Jack.

Jack, who waits for him in the kitchen when Gabriel comes home. The car parks itself since Gabe flies out of it just to breathe in the smell of lavender candles. Maybe a hint of vanilla? It smells good. It eases him in a way he doesn’t know how to articulate. He isn’t quite sure any love poem could describe the way in which Gabe leaves his baggage at the door and drags his feet to throw his arms around Jack’s front and lean against his back. 

Gabriel doesn’t need to see Jack to know he smiles that soft, secretive one that makes his heart pound when they’re alone. 

“Welcome home, Gabriel.” Jack says, forgoing his cup of tea to put his hands on Gabe’s. His palms are slightly roughened from a youth spent in hard labor but softened with the very lotion Gabe wants to smooth against every inch of his skin. 

Gabriel can’t remember how to speak, he can only remember the way Jack’s skin feels against his own. Mindlessly, a hand moves under Jack’s shirt to brush against his abdominal muscles. They twitch under his attention, as always. He’s happy to continue lazily touching and feeling the rise and fall of his breathing. 

He didn’t realize how needy he was to know his anchor was safe and sound in a home they created together. 

Jack says nothing, he needn’t say a damn thing to Gabriel. They both know a post mission decompression is necessary. Despite Gabe’s bravedo, he’s very much a tactile person. He likes patting shoulders, bumping hips, hair ruffling— the works. His love language is written in his actions, the way his fingers trail against Jack’s sternum and palm flattens to feel his heart. 

Gabriel is weak, needing to feel the thrum of Jack’s heart. Jack lets him as he always does. He lets Gabe get away with so much. 

He wonders when so much becomes too much. 

He prays the day never comes to see the destruction of their trust. 

“Athena alerted me that you were en route, I made a bath for you to take after you shower. I put your clothes and towels where you usually like them. Get washed up, okay? You smell like sewer.” Jack whispers. The words ride his breath in a way that makes Gabriel think he imagined it but the soft exhale tells him it was true. 

Gabe pulls away, pads to the bathroom to clean himself. 

He feels refreshed, clean in a way that is more than just removing the grime of France from his skin. The smog, the sewer, the weight of the world upon his shoulders eases. 

It feels good. 

The man runs on autopilot, soaking in a bath until Jack knocks on the door with a drink and a smile. Gabe looks up at him, all six foot one of his man that looks so innocent but has seen the darkest the world has to offer. 

There’s a flicker of jealousy that Jack has withdrawn from the shadows to tan in the sun, golden complexion freckled where the sun sat on his face too long. Home grown farmer boy from rural Indiana being the face of a world renown paramilitary. 

Gabriel wants to destroy it. 

“Hey, I made some hot tea if you want some— black tea. Don’t tell Ana I added milk and sugar, she’ll skin me.” Jack’s smile is sloppy, easy in a way the wrinkles in his skin don’t match. 

Gabriel grabs the center of his shirt when he leans down enough to steal affection from this puppy of a man. Too eager to please with little self discipline in ignoring distractions. The kisses start soft, exploring what they can. There’s cinnamon in Jack's mouth, his toothpaste reminds him of snickerdoodles in a small apartment right after winning the war. Jack has been so proud of his nearly burnt sweets and Gabriel ate every single one without leaving a spare for his poor lover. 

Jack pulls away only a fraction to put the cup on the tray that settles across the tub. Hands find themselves around Gabe’s face and tilting to take more of what he has to offer. Jack is so open, free for him to take a mussy at his leisure. Gabriel could ruin him, tarnish the skin with bruises and cuts that heal after rough play where Jack thanks him for the pain. 

It’s not about his suffering but it’s about his brain’s obsessive need to destroy things that make him happy. Self promising of his own ending, total annihilating of any and every thing he’s ever held dear. 

“You’re thinking too loudly,” Jack mumbles against Gabriel’s lips. Brown eyes open to look at blue, half lidded as he leans away. There’s a thumb brushing his cheek that makes goosebumps rise on his skin from the sparks of mild excitement, Gabriel wonders how long Jack has waited in the kitchen like a good soldier waiting to attend to his newest mission. 

Gabriel smiles, barely there but mostly in his eyes. It exaggerates the crow’s feet that decorate the corners of his eyes. 

“I don’t think I think enough,” Gabe takes a breath and looks at the tea. It’s a perfect caramel color and the scent is just the right side of sweet with a dash of cinnamon. 

It’s perfect. 

“You think more than any one person has the right to. Can I be privy to what you’re thinking?” Jack settles on his knees outside the tub. His arms are bent at an awkward angle to keep touch against Gabe’s water heated skin. If Gabriel thought that he, himself, was desperate then he clearly never thought of the energy vibrating just beneath the surface of Jack’s flesh. 

“You smell and taste like cinnamon. Was thinking about when we were given the furnished flat for a few months when they were trying to find us a home base— you made those shitty snickerdoodles and I ate every single one in less than an hour.” 

Gabriel watches the fond look develop on Jack’s face. A memory that seems to echo in this steaming room where the rest of the world seems forgotten. It could disappear forever and Gabe wouldn’t give a damn, as long as he never saw this look leave Jack’s face. 

“I remember. They were too sweet for me but you… appreciated them a lot more than I thought you would. They were burnt as fuck on the bottom.”

“Absolutely charred.” Gabe agrees. 

Jack chuckles, leaning forward to take yet another moment of quiet affection where the world bleeds away to the feeling of water and slightly chapped lips against his own. Gabriel wishes for photographic memory for keeping this one moment prestige and untarnished in his mind. What he wouldn’t give to have this recorded and framed for no one else but him to see in the privacy of his room when the other is so far away. 

“Drink your tea, I’ll be in bed. It’s been a long day and I want to finish my book.” Jack pulls away, long legs appearing in a pair sweats that Gabe knows are his. Jack has a slimmer waist but larger calves, which cause an interesting silhouette that leaves Gabe with a dry mouth. 

However, Gabriel does as he’s told. It’s easy to settle in the warm of the tub with sweet, warm tea that soothes the emotional and physical aches from a mission gone sideways. He’ll hate to fill out a mission report later to Jack’s disappointed gaze but it was necessary to save Jesse’s life. 

At some point, Gabe’s eyes shut and didn’t open again until Jack put a hand on his head. Brown eyes slowly blink open, Jack’s face slightly blurred by sleep. 

“Huh?” Splutters from chapped lips. 

“You fell asleep. Come on, ya goof, let’s get you out of the tub and into bed.” Jack smiles and Gabe’s heart lurches with affection. 

How dare he be so good and kind?

“Uh, thanks.” Jack chuckles and Gabe would slap himself in the face for saying that aloud. Embarrassing. Hopefully Jack will forget it later. 

Jack helps lift Gabe out of the tub. He pats the half asleep man down before shuffling him into bed. Gabriel is still slightly damp but makes no effort to dress. He sees the bed and makes a beeline to it. 

Gabe knows Jack’s chuckle but doesn’t care. He groans, happily, as he front hits the bed. 

“Good night, Gabe.” Jack says and Gabriel grunts something. The bed shifts, lights turn off. 

Gabe falls asleep knowing that even though darkness lies beneath the underbelly of this cruel world, Jack will be there to be a beacon of hope for those who seek refuge. 


End file.
